Co-Dependent Vince/Eric Fic 6/?
Rating: ummm low?
Pairing: Eric/Vince or Vince/Eric (is there a difference?)
Author notes: Thank you Allemium for your delightful comments.
The orange juice he had been guzzling leaves a gross, off feeling in E’s mouth, like he just brushed his teeth not like it’s the closest thing to real nourishment that he has had in days. E isn’t a moron, he fucking knows that he can’t live off coffee and cigarettes and he does want to fucking think about the appointment he has tomorrow with a physiotherapist who’ll tell him to slow down and take it easy because when he slows down his thoughts can linger and wend their way back to things he really can’t afford to think about because Vince is on the verge of the biggest PR disaster seen in the last ten years in LA.
E hastily dumps the juice in the sink, which he had been enjoying until he had seen how Vince’s eye had glazed over at the description of Robert fucking Paulson and E knows, alright, he fucking knows he has no right to be jealous but he is, because Robert Paulson got Vince to look like that and he had looked that same fuzzy kind of happy in the shot after the kiss and the lights of the fountain had illuminated the two of them making them look like fucking gods and E was the short fucker with the bum knee and right arm that would probably never be the same again and even before he got ruined he could still never have gotten a look like that out of Vince because well, Vince.
And as the crushing knowledge of his inadequacy overwhelms him, all E wants is out and away because he can feel the pressure on his chest building and he really doesn’t want to freak out in front of Drama and Vince because he really doesn’t want to have a conversation with Vince about why Robert Paulson makes him feel nauseous and giddy because, fuck, when he saw the first photo with Vince looking relaxed and happy as some bitch who was short but still fucking taller then him pressed his mouth into Vince’s he’d felt a stab of hope that was sick and wrong because he was Vince’s friend and Vince’s sexual orientation could ruin everything Vince has worked for and he shouldn’t be relieved and hopeful, because erasing Vince is straight from the list of reasons why it could never happen didn’t make a real dent in the list.
So E spins blindly away from the sink takes a step and slams into Vince’s warmth which hurts like fuck so he takes a deep breath and only catches the final part of Vince’s question. “-you going?”
All E can think to do is mumble “Um, I need…my uh blackberry. I don’t have it and Shauna and I need to…um…we-we have a meeting.” And, Jesusfuck, but that wasn’t even believable to his ears and he can barely hear himself over the odd rushing in his ears.
“Dude,” Vince’s voice penetrates. “I checked your fucking phone, E; you don’t have a meeting with Shauna! What you do have is a motherfucking crazy schedule I re-arranged for you and seriously, bro, who the fuck thinks they can get from Ari’s office to Harvey’s for lunch that fast?”
E opens his mouth to say, well he doesn’t really know what but the need to escape is pressing up into his throat and maybe it can produce the magic, impossible words to get Vince off his back, only E knows that’s impossible because the worst part of this kind of love he has for Vince is that Vince does care about him, does love him, just not the way E wants and that makes it bittersweet when Vince gets concerned or makes some grand gesture of affection because reminds E that he’ll never stop loving Vince this way and no matter how hard he tries to love other girls, he will always gravitate back towards Vince like the fucking moon making it’s wobbly ass ellipse around the earth.
Before E can truly consider the depths to which he has sunk if he is using moon metaphors to describe his and Vince’s relationship, Vince’s voice draws his attention.
“-also what the fuck dude, can you not spend fifteen minutes without your blackberry, are you incapable of letting go for fifteen fucking minutes?”
That does push E out of his stupor and suddenly he is angry as angry as Vince is but without the layer of concern woven though his words, “No, bro,” he spits. “I fucking can’t because you made me goddamn responsible for your happiness and you look at me with your big trusting doe eyes and expect me to be able to make you happy!”
E stops to yank air into his lungs, despite all the swimming, the second pneumothorax had significantly reduced his lung capacity, and Vince opens his mouth as Drama begins “Now, E, man, come on-”
But E interrupts him, “So, yeah, Vince, I gotta do this and I would really appreciate it, if as my friend,” E’s tongue laves as much irony onto the word friend as it can, “I would be ever so grateful, if you would let me do my fucking job and not try to make it more difficult then it already is.”
With that parting salvo E turns a sharply as E can ignoring the harsh reminders from his knee and ribs that he was nearly beaten to death only a couple of weeks ago and stalks, E prides himself on not limping and keeping his breath even because his lungs feel hot and tight, away from Johnny and the kitchen and Vince’s shocked face.
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Silence fills the kitchen, except for the quiet drip of E juice into the drain of the sink made loud by total lack of other noise. Vince drops his head, his mind reeling with the revelations E had just shouted. Did E really think that he wasn’t equipped to make Vince happy, did he really feel that worthless and unappreciated?...Well, fuck that shit.
He mind made up, Vince pushes off the counter and towards the door decisively only to have Johnny’s hesitant voice stop him, “Vince, man, just…just go easy okay?”
Vince just throws a look over his shoulder to his brother, his lips pressed together and his eyes wild. Without a word, he speeds out of the kitchen in search of E, turning into the unused portion of the house that E has taken to frequenting and the makes Vince feel a little sick because he can’t decide if E just hates himself so much that he feels in the way or he feels so worthless that he doesn’t feel comfortable in the house with his friends, and it just freaks Vince out more that he doesn’t know which because it’s E, and he has known what E is thinking since he was six and loved him nearly as long and when did all this distance jump up between them because a film shoot should never have been have been enough split them like this.
Before Vince can really ponder the question of what is pulling E away from him and Turtle and Drama, he finds him. He finds E slotted between the toilet and the bathtub in a bathroom he isn’t even certain he’s ever seen before breathing in harsh, shallow, little pants that sound like they hurt. “E?” Vince offers a little hesitantly. “E…?”
E looks up and the bruised smears under his eyes are the first thing that hit Vince and the second is the way his whole body is trembling and he looks a like sick and a little scared and still, because he’s E and stubborn as hell and really that shouldn’t give Vince a warm cozy feeling, angry.
“Sorry, man….for shouting…I didn’t mean….I mean…I just…I’m sorry” Vince can’t tell if the pauses in E’s speech and because he can’t seem to get enough air into his lungs or if he can’t find the words. E pupils are blown out wide and his fingers are curled tight around the pipe that swoops down from the sink and into the wall.
“E, No, man, No, just no,” is all Vince can force past the harsh painful feeling in his throat. “Listen, dude, are you…are you ok? You seem…You’re breathing a little…” Vince just trails off because E has clenched his jaw tight like he does when he is really pissed and Vince takes step back only to take three forward again when E opens his mouth abruptly and gasps air into his mouth.
Vince opens his mouth to say something, anything, but all he can think is E, E, E, in time with E’s rough breathes and Vince is pretty sure that that mantra is not helpful so instead he settles down in front of E, he can lean against the wall next to him because E is wedged between the sink and the toilet and a part of Vince can’t help bitterly wondering if this is on purpose, and Vince gently pulls E knees down from his chest ignoring E’s glare and presses his palm against E chest. Vince nearly yanks his hand back again when he feel E heart fluttering against his chest like a bird throwing itself at his ribs like the bars of cage.
“E,” he says just once because E name is a constant familiar taste in his mouth since forever it seems. “Calm down, okay, buddy and when you don’t sound like an 89 year old smoker you can tell me what set you off okay?”
E just looks empty and tired when he nods his acquiesce and Vince settles back against the toilet, shifting his hand from E’s chest and moving to press against the back of his neck, as heavy and comforting as he can make it. E breathing eventually slows and he grins up at Vince little ruefully and his eyes a little dead. “Sorry, man, not supposed yell might irritate…well, it might” his speech stutters and Vince presses his hand a little tighter against E’s neck and E takes a deep breath and says “It might irritate the place where my rib punctured my lung.”
Vince pressed his palm harder into E’s neck, smoothing the short tufts hair that are longer than E likes and honestly does E take care of himself at all these days? “Why are you so angry?” He ask, quiet and curious and a little hurt but most of all honest.
And E turns his head towards him, the skin of his nape sliding smoothly under Vince’s hand and his eyes are wide enough that Vince can see the whole white around them and he looks at Vince for a long moment reading Vince that way that E does and Vince lets him, opening up al the way because E has the right to Vince’s honesty.
But E just snorts and his voice sounds tired and dry when it comes and Vince feels like he failed this test. “Honestly, man I don’t…I don’t mind because I want you to be fucking happy but could you avoid having your fucking gay trysts show up at our door and maybe try for an iota of discretion.” His words are hard but his voice sounds like surrender.
Vince feels cold and yeah the bathroom is a little chilly, E is shivering he notices distractedly and Vince wants to wrap an arm around his shoulders or move E but he can’t because he can’t move himself and all he force up his throat is “How?”
E rolls his eyes and opens his mouth and when E is trying that hard for cavalier is got to be pretty bad but then he shuts his mouth hard and swallows twice and then suddenly he is up shoving Vince aside and heaving up into the toilet and there is anything is his stomach except acid and he makes this pained hacking sound as he wraps his left arm around his ribs and tries to pull air into his lungs.
Vince is up in second all he can do is curl his hand around E’s shoulder blade which is jutting out of his skin, fuck, and his smoothes his hand down the hard knobs of his spine and as much as his is enjoying feel up E’s fucking skeleton it seems like a better idea to get him to bed.
E finally stop retching and slumps back should on Vince chest wheezing painfully and keep his arm curled around his ribs, his eyelashes brush against the smudges under his eyes as he squeezes them shut. “Come on” Vince offers, pulling them both to their feet and guided E toward his room and his is so relieved when E just follows him not heading for that awful study but instead leans against him still shivering.
When they reach his room, Vince reaches for the buttons on E shirt but E bats his hands away and slides under the covers and Vince swallows and steps back and tries not to think. He wants E to fall asleep, he wants the dark purple smears under E’s eyes to fade, and he wants the hurt to fade and he wants to know what is going on and he wants E to be ok and to be okay with Vince playing for both teams and Vince just wants E not to have closed his eyes tightly and opened his eyes to let the words spill out.
“You were photographed, you motherfucking cocksucking bitch” and E almost sobs the curses but yanks his body away from Vince and off the bed unsteadily with a high noise of pain when Vince reaches out towards him.
“You were photographed,” E repeats slinking back away from Vince his eyes wide. “I got this call, from this woman, and she said she had some photos and I could buy them and I asked her “What fucking photos?” and she said “The photos that are gonna end your boy’s motherfucking career.” And she emailed me one and I saw you and that guy and I didn’t know, I found out from a fucking blackmailing bitch”
E voice is raw and rough and the word pneumothorax is echoing Vince’s head but he knows better then to try to stop the flow of words even for I’msorryI’msorryI’msososorry because E shouldn’t have to deal with this and shouldn’t have found out like this and he should not have to describe nearly dying.
“So I agreed to meet her boys and I got the money, well I didn’t have enough so I borrowed some from Shauna but she’ll give me time to pay it back.” Vince is angry now angry at E for emptying his bank accounts for Vince’s mistake and angry at his fucking raspy voice and they way he is leaning against the wall with his right arm cradled against his chest and no weight on his right leg.
“And I was in an alleyway Vince and there were big fucking guys with” and E swallows before resuming in that awful pleading tone. “With beer bottles and they asked me, like in a fucking movie, “You got the money?” and I said, fuck me, but I said “You got the package?” and Vince I am sorry, so sorry I didn’t I mean to…antagonize them but it was just so…so surreal....”
And Vince does start toward him at this because, well, E doesn’t ever, ever apologize for this or think it’s his fault. But E squeaks high in his throat and shakes his head and his eye plead and Vince isn’t sure he can give E everything he needs in this moment and that almost makes him laugh because now he knows that E doesn’t think he can give Vince everything he wants which is ridiculous because E is everything he wants and Vince is the one who failed them.
E clears his throat and swallows looking a little sick, “Anyway we were all good until, well I gave them the cash and they gave me the photos and I just took out my lighter and well, I couldn’t…I couldn’t…” E swallows again. “So I just lit them on fire and I was so stupid, it was all my fault. I was walking away and I was free and you were too, but one of them must have seen a picture and recognized you and put it all together because then the were yelling after me, my name, Eric fucking Murphy, and they were throwing the bottles and I tried to run and when they caught me, I swear Vince I swear I fought. But there were so many” and now the words a spilling from his mouth a flow that neither of Vince or E could stop.
“One of them got my arm and he yanked it and I heard this pop and it hurt and I was on the ground because he pulled hard and he twisted it and another guy just…just stepped on my elbow with those big fucking army style boots” E voice breaks a little here. “It sounded like fucking potato chips being crushed and they are all yelling about queers and fag lovers and my arm just keeps getting twisted. I realize they were pulling me up under the light and one of them is yelling “Blind the fucking queer so he can’t look at real men.” And they broke this bottle but at the last second he just stuck it into my knee and twisted.”
E pauses and Vince realizes it’s because he made a sound and E is looking at him and the fucker is not allowed to be worrying about whether Vince can handle hearing this, so Vince meets his eyes as hard and lovingly as he can. E nods and continues, “I was screaming,” and he tries to smile like this is a joke. “Screaming like a little girl and they were kicking me and they got my head a couple times to it’s a little fuzzy but I think they got scared and left me. They took my watch and stuff so it would look like a mugging.”
E smiles again, “Which was fucking lucky because when some dude walking his dog found me they couldn’t identify me at the hospital.” E just ignores Vince’s glare because who they fuck cares about Vince’s career when E is in the hospital? Vince would give it all the fuck away if E would look less tiny and fragile crammed up against the wall of Vince’s room telling the story of how he nearly died is that ragged achy voice.
“Anyway, so, I woke up and recovered and that was that.” E speeds through the end skipping stuff and Vince is both angry at him for sparing Vince and relieved the he need to here the tightness of fear and loneliness push that voice farther off E’s normal tones. “And I just need to figure out why Robert Paulson is standing outside our door really fucking early in the morning and how to make him go away.” Then E swallows and his voice is unsure, “Unless…unless you don’t want him to go?”
This shakes Vince out of his torpor, “No, man, no. Bob isn’t, he wasn’t…like that. I was just…” But Vince trails off at him because E is smiling at him, clearly trying to make a joke out of Vince’s awkwardness which falls flat anyway because his teeth, and tongue when Vince catches a sight of it as E coughs wetly, are stained red with blood. “E!” Vince says stupidly.
E waves him off and swallows again which makes Vince a little sick. “It’s no big, dude, it happens sometimes. I am not supposed to strain my voice, the doctors don’t…they don’t know if it will never get better. Two ribs punctured my left lung, but hey,” E grin is sick. “You can swallow a pint of blood before you get sick” E offers lightly as he can in that terrible voice.
“Do you need the hospital?’ Vince asks, ready to take him even if E says no. But the fear E’s eyes gives him pause when E opens his mouth to respond. Vince holds up a finger and E shakes his head and gives Vince a pleading look. Vince sighs and nods and E looks grateful and opens his mouth again but Vince cuts him off. “Shut up, idiot.” But his voice is soft and affectionate.
E nods and sags against the wall and Vince is reminded why he brought E to his room and he steps forward slowly but purposefully and reaches for E’s shirt hesitantly but he needn’t have bothered because E has shut his eyes and makes no move to stop Vince as he unbuttons E shirt.
Vince swallows air into lungs hard at the sight of E’s pale, emaciated torso. With two long, parallel, painfully fresh surgical scars striping across his flesh and Vince can see the unevenness in the smooth counters of E’s ribs where they were broken. His right shoulder is a shiny mess where four long scalpel drawn scars crisscross, and his elbow is marked by a sort of ropey tepee shape, that Vince realizes with horror is where E’s ulna shoved its way though his skin and the narrow line under it is where doctors wrapped the skin back around it. Vince turns his eyes down and away and gently tugs his soft sleeping pants off E’s legs to reveal the pale columns and his right kneecap is a sun of scar tissue with a rough smudge covering the knee and thin lines that doctors drew then cut into E’s flesh radiating out from the primary damage.
Vince is feeling sick now and he wants to cry which is stupid because E hasn’t and he is the one with the swaying broken body. So Vince looks up at him, up into his eyes to reassure or to gain reassurance he isn’t sure, but E won’t look at him, is focusing on the carpet next to him intently.
And Vince doesn’t know what to do for E, he has known E forever and he can’t figure out what to do to make this okay, so he just stands and presses a kiss into E temple and E melts into him with a sound like wet cloth ripping and Vince pulls his arms up around his friend and stokes the back of his neck as E shakes but still doesn’t fucking cry. E is leaning more and more weight on him and while Vince could easily support this new-never-eating E, he does want E to sleep like that so he draws him to the bed, and pulls the covers over him and curls around E as he shakes for what feel like hours. Eventually, the tremors fade and E relaxes and Vince just shuts his eyes squeezing them together tightly, and hopes E sleeps.
Pairing: Eric/Vince or Vince/Eric (is there a difference?)
Author notes: Thank you Allemium for your delightful comments.
The orange juice he had been guzzling leaves a gross, off feeling in E’s mouth, like he just brushed his teeth not like it’s the closest thing to real nourishment that he has had in days. E isn’t a moron, he fucking knows that he can’t live off coffee and cigarettes and he does want to fucking think about the appointment he has tomorrow with a physiotherapist who’ll tell him to slow down and take it easy because when he slows down his thoughts can linger and wend their way back to things he really can’t afford to think about because Vince is on the verge of the biggest PR disaster seen in the last ten years in LA.
E hastily dumps the juice in the sink, which he had been enjoying until he had seen how Vince’s eye had glazed over at the description of Robert fucking Paulson and E knows, alright, he fucking knows he has no right to be jealous but he is, because Robert Paulson got Vince to look like that and he had looked that same fuzzy kind of happy in the shot after the kiss and the lights of the fountain had illuminated the two of them making them look like fucking gods and E was the short fucker with the bum knee and right arm that would probably never be the same again and even before he got ruined he could still never have gotten a look like that out of Vince because well, Vince.
And as the crushing knowledge of his inadequacy overwhelms him, all E wants is out and away because he can feel the pressure on his chest building and he really doesn’t want to freak out in front of Drama and Vince because he really doesn’t want to have a conversation with Vince about why Robert Paulson makes him feel nauseous and giddy because, fuck, when he saw the first photo with Vince looking relaxed and happy as some bitch who was short but still fucking taller then him pressed his mouth into Vince’s he’d felt a stab of hope that was sick and wrong because he was Vince’s friend and Vince’s sexual orientation could ruin everything Vince has worked for and he shouldn’t be relieved and hopeful, because erasing Vince is straight from the list of reasons why it could never happen didn’t make a real dent in the list.
So E spins blindly away from the sink takes a step and slams into Vince’s warmth which hurts like fuck so he takes a deep breath and only catches the final part of Vince’s question. “-you going?”
All E can think to do is mumble “Um, I need…my uh blackberry. I don’t have it and Shauna and I need to…um…we-we have a meeting.” And, Jesusfuck, but that wasn’t even believable to his ears and he can barely hear himself over the odd rushing in his ears.
“Dude,” Vince’s voice penetrates. “I checked your fucking phone, E; you don’t have a meeting with Shauna! What you do have is a motherfucking crazy schedule I re-arranged for you and seriously, bro, who the fuck thinks they can get from Ari’s office to Harvey’s for lunch that fast?”
E opens his mouth to say, well he doesn’t really know what but the need to escape is pressing up into his throat and maybe it can produce the magic, impossible words to get Vince off his back, only E knows that’s impossible because the worst part of this kind of love he has for Vince is that Vince does care about him, does love him, just not the way E wants and that makes it bittersweet when Vince gets concerned or makes some grand gesture of affection because reminds E that he’ll never stop loving Vince this way and no matter how hard he tries to love other girls, he will always gravitate back towards Vince like the fucking moon making it’s wobbly ass ellipse around the earth.
Before E can truly consider the depths to which he has sunk if he is using moon metaphors to describe his and Vince’s relationship, Vince’s voice draws his attention.
“-also what the fuck dude, can you not spend fifteen minutes without your blackberry, are you incapable of letting go for fifteen fucking minutes?”
That does push E out of his stupor and suddenly he is angry as angry as Vince is but without the layer of concern woven though his words, “No, bro,” he spits. “I fucking can’t because you made me goddamn responsible for your happiness and you look at me with your big trusting doe eyes and expect me to be able to make you happy!”
E stops to yank air into his lungs, despite all the swimming, the second pneumothorax had significantly reduced his lung capacity, and Vince opens his mouth as Drama begins “Now, E, man, come on-”
But E interrupts him, “So, yeah, Vince, I gotta do this and I would really appreciate it, if as my friend,” E’s tongue laves as much irony onto the word friend as it can, “I would be ever so grateful, if you would let me do my fucking job and not try to make it more difficult then it already is.”
With that parting salvo E turns a sharply as E can ignoring the harsh reminders from his knee and ribs that he was nearly beaten to death only a couple of weeks ago and stalks, E prides himself on not limping and keeping his breath even because his lungs feel hot and tight, away from Johnny and the kitchen and Vince’s shocked face.
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Silence fills the kitchen, except for the quiet drip of E juice into the drain of the sink made loud by total lack of other noise. Vince drops his head, his mind reeling with the revelations E had just shouted. Did E really think that he wasn’t equipped to make Vince happy, did he really feel that worthless and unappreciated?...Well, fuck that shit.
He mind made up, Vince pushes off the counter and towards the door decisively only to have Johnny’s hesitant voice stop him, “Vince, man, just…just go easy okay?”
Vince just throws a look over his shoulder to his brother, his lips pressed together and his eyes wild. Without a word, he speeds out of the kitchen in search of E, turning into the unused portion of the house that E has taken to frequenting and the makes Vince feel a little sick because he can’t decide if E just hates himself so much that he feels in the way or he feels so worthless that he doesn’t feel comfortable in the house with his friends, and it just freaks Vince out more that he doesn’t know which because it’s E, and he has known what E is thinking since he was six and loved him nearly as long and when did all this distance jump up between them because a film shoot should never have been have been enough split them like this.
Before Vince can really ponder the question of what is pulling E away from him and Turtle and Drama, he finds him. He finds E slotted between the toilet and the bathtub in a bathroom he isn’t even certain he’s ever seen before breathing in harsh, shallow, little pants that sound like they hurt. “E?” Vince offers a little hesitantly. “E…?”
E looks up and the bruised smears under his eyes are the first thing that hit Vince and the second is the way his whole body is trembling and he looks a like sick and a little scared and still, because he’s E and stubborn as hell and really that shouldn’t give Vince a warm cozy feeling, angry.
“Sorry, man….for shouting…I didn’t mean….I mean…I just…I’m sorry” Vince can’t tell if the pauses in E’s speech and because he can’t seem to get enough air into his lungs or if he can’t find the words. E pupils are blown out wide and his fingers are curled tight around the pipe that swoops down from the sink and into the wall.
“E, No, man, No, just no,” is all Vince can force past the harsh painful feeling in his throat. “Listen, dude, are you…are you ok? You seem…You’re breathing a little…” Vince just trails off because E has clenched his jaw tight like he does when he is really pissed and Vince takes step back only to take three forward again when E opens his mouth abruptly and gasps air into his mouth.
Vince opens his mouth to say something, anything, but all he can think is E, E, E, in time with E’s rough breathes and Vince is pretty sure that that mantra is not helpful so instead he settles down in front of E, he can lean against the wall next to him because E is wedged between the sink and the toilet and a part of Vince can’t help bitterly wondering if this is on purpose, and Vince gently pulls E knees down from his chest ignoring E’s glare and presses his palm against E chest. Vince nearly yanks his hand back again when he feel E heart fluttering against his chest like a bird throwing itself at his ribs like the bars of cage.
“E,” he says just once because E name is a constant familiar taste in his mouth since forever it seems. “Calm down, okay, buddy and when you don’t sound like an 89 year old smoker you can tell me what set you off okay?”
E just looks empty and tired when he nods his acquiesce and Vince settles back against the toilet, shifting his hand from E’s chest and moving to press against the back of his neck, as heavy and comforting as he can make it. E breathing eventually slows and he grins up at Vince little ruefully and his eyes a little dead. “Sorry, man, not supposed yell might irritate…well, it might” his speech stutters and Vince presses his hand a little tighter against E’s neck and E takes a deep breath and says “It might irritate the place where my rib punctured my lung.”
Vince pressed his palm harder into E’s neck, smoothing the short tufts hair that are longer than E likes and honestly does E take care of himself at all these days? “Why are you so angry?” He ask, quiet and curious and a little hurt but most of all honest.
And E turns his head towards him, the skin of his nape sliding smoothly under Vince’s hand and his eyes are wide enough that Vince can see the whole white around them and he looks at Vince for a long moment reading Vince that way that E does and Vince lets him, opening up al the way because E has the right to Vince’s honesty.
But E just snorts and his voice sounds tired and dry when it comes and Vince feels like he failed this test. “Honestly, man I don’t…I don’t mind because I want you to be fucking happy but could you avoid having your fucking gay trysts show up at our door and maybe try for an iota of discretion.” His words are hard but his voice sounds like surrender.
Vince feels cold and yeah the bathroom is a little chilly, E is shivering he notices distractedly and Vince wants to wrap an arm around his shoulders or move E but he can’t because he can’t move himself and all he force up his throat is “How?”
E rolls his eyes and opens his mouth and when E is trying that hard for cavalier is got to be pretty bad but then he shuts his mouth hard and swallows twice and then suddenly he is up shoving Vince aside and heaving up into the toilet and there is anything is his stomach except acid and he makes this pained hacking sound as he wraps his left arm around his ribs and tries to pull air into his lungs.
Vince is up in second all he can do is curl his hand around E’s shoulder blade which is jutting out of his skin, fuck, and his smoothes his hand down the hard knobs of his spine and as much as his is enjoying feel up E’s fucking skeleton it seems like a better idea to get him to bed.
E finally stop retching and slumps back should on Vince chest wheezing painfully and keep his arm curled around his ribs, his eyelashes brush against the smudges under his eyes as he squeezes them shut. “Come on” Vince offers, pulling them both to their feet and guided E toward his room and his is so relieved when E just follows him not heading for that awful study but instead leans against him still shivering.
When they reach his room, Vince reaches for the buttons on E shirt but E bats his hands away and slides under the covers and Vince swallows and steps back and tries not to think. He wants E to fall asleep, he wants the dark purple smears under E’s eyes to fade, and he wants the hurt to fade and he wants to know what is going on and he wants E to be ok and to be okay with Vince playing for both teams and Vince just wants E not to have closed his eyes tightly and opened his eyes to let the words spill out.
“You were photographed, you motherfucking cocksucking bitch” and E almost sobs the curses but yanks his body away from Vince and off the bed unsteadily with a high noise of pain when Vince reaches out towards him.
“You were photographed,” E repeats slinking back away from Vince his eyes wide. “I got this call, from this woman, and she said she had some photos and I could buy them and I asked her “What fucking photos?” and she said “The photos that are gonna end your boy’s motherfucking career.” And she emailed me one and I saw you and that guy and I didn’t know, I found out from a fucking blackmailing bitch”
E voice is raw and rough and the word pneumothorax is echoing Vince’s head but he knows better then to try to stop the flow of words even for I’msorryI’msorryI’msososorry because E shouldn’t have to deal with this and shouldn’t have found out like this and he should not have to describe nearly dying.
“So I agreed to meet her boys and I got the money, well I didn’t have enough so I borrowed some from Shauna but she’ll give me time to pay it back.” Vince is angry now angry at E for emptying his bank accounts for Vince’s mistake and angry at his fucking raspy voice and they way he is leaning against the wall with his right arm cradled against his chest and no weight on his right leg.
“And I was in an alleyway Vince and there were big fucking guys with” and E swallows before resuming in that awful pleading tone. “With beer bottles and they asked me, like in a fucking movie, “You got the money?” and I said, fuck me, but I said “You got the package?” and Vince I am sorry, so sorry I didn’t I mean to…antagonize them but it was just so…so surreal....”
And Vince does start toward him at this because, well, E doesn’t ever, ever apologize for this or think it’s his fault. But E squeaks high in his throat and shakes his head and his eye plead and Vince isn’t sure he can give E everything he needs in this moment and that almost makes him laugh because now he knows that E doesn’t think he can give Vince everything he wants which is ridiculous because E is everything he wants and Vince is the one who failed them.
E clears his throat and swallows looking a little sick, “Anyway we were all good until, well I gave them the cash and they gave me the photos and I just took out my lighter and well, I couldn’t…I couldn’t…” E swallows again. “So I just lit them on fire and I was so stupid, it was all my fault. I was walking away and I was free and you were too, but one of them must have seen a picture and recognized you and put it all together because then the were yelling after me, my name, Eric fucking Murphy, and they were throwing the bottles and I tried to run and when they caught me, I swear Vince I swear I fought. But there were so many” and now the words a spilling from his mouth a flow that neither of Vince or E could stop.
“One of them got my arm and he yanked it and I heard this pop and it hurt and I was on the ground because he pulled hard and he twisted it and another guy just…just stepped on my elbow with those big fucking army style boots” E voice breaks a little here. “It sounded like fucking potato chips being crushed and they are all yelling about queers and fag lovers and my arm just keeps getting twisted. I realize they were pulling me up under the light and one of them is yelling “Blind the fucking queer so he can’t look at real men.” And they broke this bottle but at the last second he just stuck it into my knee and twisted.”
E pauses and Vince realizes it’s because he made a sound and E is looking at him and the fucker is not allowed to be worrying about whether Vince can handle hearing this, so Vince meets his eyes as hard and lovingly as he can. E nods and continues, “I was screaming,” and he tries to smile like this is a joke. “Screaming like a little girl and they were kicking me and they got my head a couple times to it’s a little fuzzy but I think they got scared and left me. They took my watch and stuff so it would look like a mugging.”
E smiles again, “Which was fucking lucky because when some dude walking his dog found me they couldn’t identify me at the hospital.” E just ignores Vince’s glare because who they fuck cares about Vince’s career when E is in the hospital? Vince would give it all the fuck away if E would look less tiny and fragile crammed up against the wall of Vince’s room telling the story of how he nearly died is that ragged achy voice.
“Anyway, so, I woke up and recovered and that was that.” E speeds through the end skipping stuff and Vince is both angry at him for sparing Vince and relieved the he need to here the tightness of fear and loneliness push that voice farther off E’s normal tones. “And I just need to figure out why Robert Paulson is standing outside our door really fucking early in the morning and how to make him go away.” Then E swallows and his voice is unsure, “Unless…unless you don’t want him to go?”
This shakes Vince out of his torpor, “No, man, no. Bob isn’t, he wasn’t…like that. I was just…” But Vince trails off at him because E is smiling at him, clearly trying to make a joke out of Vince’s awkwardness which falls flat anyway because his teeth, and tongue when Vince catches a sight of it as E coughs wetly, are stained red with blood. “E!” Vince says stupidly.
E waves him off and swallows again which makes Vince a little sick. “It’s no big, dude, it happens sometimes. I am not supposed to strain my voice, the doctors don’t…they don’t know if it will never get better. Two ribs punctured my left lung, but hey,” E grin is sick. “You can swallow a pint of blood before you get sick” E offers lightly as he can in that terrible voice.
“Do you need the hospital?’ Vince asks, ready to take him even if E says no. But the fear E’s eyes gives him pause when E opens his mouth to respond. Vince holds up a finger and E shakes his head and gives Vince a pleading look. Vince sighs and nods and E looks grateful and opens his mouth again but Vince cuts him off. “Shut up, idiot.” But his voice is soft and affectionate.
E nods and sags against the wall and Vince is reminded why he brought E to his room and he steps forward slowly but purposefully and reaches for E’s shirt hesitantly but he needn’t have bothered because E has shut his eyes and makes no move to stop Vince as he unbuttons E shirt.
Vince swallows air into lungs hard at the sight of E’s pale, emaciated torso. With two long, parallel, painfully fresh surgical scars striping across his flesh and Vince can see the unevenness in the smooth counters of E’s ribs where they were broken. His right shoulder is a shiny mess where four long scalpel drawn scars crisscross, and his elbow is marked by a sort of ropey tepee shape, that Vince realizes with horror is where E’s ulna shoved its way though his skin and the narrow line under it is where doctors wrapped the skin back around it. Vince turns his eyes down and away and gently tugs his soft sleeping pants off E’s legs to reveal the pale columns and his right kneecap is a sun of scar tissue with a rough smudge covering the knee and thin lines that doctors drew then cut into E’s flesh radiating out from the primary damage.
Vince is feeling sick now and he wants to cry which is stupid because E hasn’t and he is the one with the swaying broken body. So Vince looks up at him, up into his eyes to reassure or to gain reassurance he isn’t sure, but E won’t look at him, is focusing on the carpet next to him intently.
And Vince doesn’t know what to do for E, he has known E forever and he can’t figure out what to do to make this okay, so he just stands and presses a kiss into E temple and E melts into him with a sound like wet cloth ripping and Vince pulls his arms up around his friend and stokes the back of his neck as E shakes but still doesn’t fucking cry. E is leaning more and more weight on him and while Vince could easily support this new-never-eating E, he does want E to sleep like that so he draws him to the bed, and pulls the covers over him and curls around E as he shakes for what feel like hours. Eventually, the tremors fade and E relaxes and Vince just shuts his eyes squeezing them together tightly, and hopes E sleeps.